PS: Trust Me
by Account Out of Use
Summary: Still lost in a relationship ended quickly by mortality, Remus Lupin tries to find the answer to his questions. How do you love someone who hurts you? How do you trust someone who lies easily as he talks? And without trust, can there be love? (RLSB)


Disclaimer: Remus and Sirius? Mine? What are you on and where can I get some? (My- er- tasteful way of saying that I own nothing but the plot of this story. Fanfiction, loves.)  
  
Author's Note: I have to say, of all my stories, I really love this one pretty much the best. This was written in forty-four minutes for two challenges on livejournal.com: the Post-Scripts challenge on Contre La Montre (LJ name: contrelamontre); and the Trust challenge on Covenites (LJ name: covenites).  
  
Warnings: Slash- that is, two men together in a romantic way, in this story the men being Remus Lupin and Sirius Black; a bit of an untrustworthy and play-around Sirius; slight language and small sexual references.  
  
**PS: Trust Me  
  
**I can't describe our relationship, never could, at least not in a way you'd understand and wouldn't just kiss me to shut me up about. I can't say it out loud, so I'll say it all here.  
  
I can't figure you out at times, Black. One moment you love me, the next you're distant. One day I'm in Heaven, laying against you on the couch in our flat, getting teased by Lily and James (retaliation for all the times we teased them I suppose) about 'when the wedding will be' and 'who's going to wear the dress' (you laughed once and told them that I'd have to, because you looked horrible in white). Then forty-eight hours pass and you're declaring that you're never going to settle down, going out from mid-afternoon to midnight on that Godforsaken motorcycle of yours, always coming back with a giggling and brainless- but more beautiful then the last- girl and making a big show of sneaking her hush-hush past my open door into your room.  
  
Our love story isn't a fairy tale- but I accepted that long ago- or even a cheap, so-called romance 'novel' like my cousin Jess reads. No, our love is more like a book of letter sent back and forth, two lovers never seeing the lies written in each other's faces, two lovers lying that everything's all right. I read a book like that once, of course it was about friends not lovers, but similar. Our letters are small part truth in the bulk, then comes the post-script. It always says I lied, but you have to read between the lines to get it that bluntly.  
  
Then again, a PS isn't a bad thing all the time. It seems that's what keeps us together. Every time we fight, every morning I wake up alone in bed and have to tend to your hangover, every time I have to make sure last night's fling gets home safely, it's the PS that draws me back in. Not 'PS: I lied'. PS: I love you. PS: I'm sorry. PS: Trust me.  
  
I do. I love you, I forgive you, and dammit even after everything _I trust you_. I trust you, Padfoot- not because you really deserve it, no. I trust you because love is blind, deaf, mute and dumb. And because of that, I can't get rid of you. When I sleep at night, _your_ face haunts my dreams and my nightmares; when I can't sleep, your body's the picture that gets painted beneath my eyelids. My hands tremble when you come near me, my lips beg for another kiss. And you wrap me in your arms- they're so strong and smooth, with a few scars marring your perfect flesh, and I always feel so safe when they're around me- and you kiss me deeply- like I'm the only person you ever did, will or want to kiss- and you whisper your post-script in my ear in your deep beautiful voice like the night sky, twinkling with a thousand promises but leading me into the dark. "_I love you, you know that. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. Trust me- you do trust me, right?_"  
  
You were the first person to make me lose control as a human, you'll be the last, I can assure you. When you hold me and make me feel protected; when you kiss me and make me feel loved; when you whisper in my ear and your voice gives me shivers; and most of all, when you look at me with those wide, beautiful eyes- blue-gray and perfect like the sea after a storm- that make me weak; that's why I can't stay mad. And I tell you a repeat of your post-scripts. "_I love you too. It's all right- I forgive you. Of course I trust you. I trust you with my life._"  
  
I do, you know. I trust you with my life. Otherwise I wouldn't tell myself it would all be okay and let you scoop me up, chuckling that I weigh nothing, and carry me to the bedroom to kiss me and make love to me until all the anger leaves.  
  
It never lasted more than a week, Sirius love. It never could. You had your reputation to think of; I had my insecurities that kept me from saying those words I wish I said. "_I want you, Sirius. All to myself. Please, please stay with me this time._"  
  
But I wasn't able to get it out. Maybe that's why I'm alone now. I never got desperate enough to make it clear how much I needed you. I do need you. You complete me, Padfoot. It hurts to not have you here.  
  
I remember you, Padfoot. I can't help it. I remember how you excited me like no one else, how the first time I admitted that I loved you, your reaction was to kiss me until my lips were sore and I couldn't catch my breath. I remember running my fingers through that long, beautiful black hair you were once so proud of and gazing into those beautiful eyes on calm nights; I ran my hands over your back, trying to memorize it's feel with my fingers, and pressed myself to your chest in an effort to drive away the nightmares filled with darkness, blood and haunting eyes. I remember how crazy you made me and wonder if it was a dream, all those nights kissing you until neither of us could stand the game of teasing and abandoned the chase just part of my vivid fantasy world. Always said I had an active imagination, love. I'd prefer that, in a way. I'd wake up in fifth year, two years after I knew I loved you, four years after I knew I liked boys. I'd be lying in my bedroom on the morning that I remember so well, November 22nd. That night you said you liked me, the night you kissed me for the first time- so innocent, almost like a child instead of the experienced fifteen-year-old you were. And it would all have been a dream, and James and Lily would be screaming at each other in the common room, and Peter would be fast asleep, and you'd roll your eyes as I peeled back the curtains, jabbing your thumb downstairs with that cocky and handsome grin you always seemed to save just for me and your fan club and your conquests. I'd laugh quietly and usher you down, replying to your over-dramatic clinging by telling you I needed to get dressed and it would be better. Because it wouldn't be like this.  
  
It's a full moon tonight, Sirius, and Moony's going to be alone. Even with the potion it will hurt. I haven't been alone for a while now. Moony wants Padfoot, I can feel it. Because Remus wants Sirius. But Sirius is gone, so I suffer in silent pain and let Moony let out all the hurt tonight.  
  
I want to kiss you again, like you kissed me before we left. When you said goodbye, you knew it would be the last time but I didn't, or I would have dragged you away and distracted you with kisses until they returned. But you're dead, and a little part of me is dead with you. A large part of me.  
  
You told me you loved me that night, two weeks ago- the first time since you'd escaped. I'd said it many times, I meant it every time too, but that night even I knew it was special- from the seriousness of your voice, no jokes for once, and because your kisses were so innocent again, instead of wild as always. It reminded me of the one thing that I'll never forget.  
  
I can't hate you, even though you left me. I can't ever hate you, because you're part of me, even now. Our last post-script was the one read with amusement and set aside for a latter date to ponder over. Now it's too late to tell you that I can't help it. We're forever, even after your death.  
  
I. Love. You. And now I can read between the lines of your last letter, the next-to-last in our book. I'll repeat it now, to show you that I know.  
  
_I love you. I can't help but love you. I never could, even back in fifth year when I thought it was a game, even back in seventh when I already knew you were the only one I cared for. I'm sorry for everything I ever did, every one I ever fucked when I should've been kissing you, making love with you. I trust you, even though I never said it out loud, I trust you more then I trust myself and it scares me. I'll be waiting for you forever. Even death can't stop true love. And that's us. True love.  
  
PS: I mean it this time._  
  
But this time, it was a letter delivered in person- because this time I could see your face clearly, no hidden emotions, and I could see it there.  
  
Tomorrow this letter will be sealed in a perfect red envelope, the kind you loved to use. I'll scrawl your name across the front and when I die, I'll be clutching this letter, hoping it will come with me. For now, it just feels good to get it all out. All the mistrust. All the pain. All the reasons it doesn't change a thing- doesn't stop me from being yours. Like this letter will be, one day. I promise.  
  
I can't think of what else to say. I guess if I do, it'll have to be saved for when I see you again: the final, stand-alone post-script in our twisted book.  
  
Love forever,  
Your Remus  
  
_PS: I love you too, more then words can ever say. I forgive you, I forgive you like I never could before because I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable, not with you. I trust you more then I trust anyone in life or death, even myself. We will meet again, no matter when or how. I will never love anyone this way again. True love cannot be broken. You're right about that. And I mean it too. And because I need to say it once more: I love you. Totally, absolutely, and forever.  
  
Trust me._


End file.
